Zhavi

Miserable, miserable day. Azeyma* was taking the piss out of Zhi, as usual, by shining ever-so-brightly when she was forced to do business in the daytime. Which, let's face it, was fairly frequently. Most of her work was dealing with daytrippers, recently, and she'd given up letting others handle certain task. Which meant she had to go out into the broiling sun. It hurt her eyes. So, Zhi did go slinking through the markets, but not for any particular reason except to get out of the blimming sun. She was tired. Thirsty. Maybe hungover (hard to tell some days when she started drinking as soon as she woke up). Thirsty. Okay, she figured out a reason to be in three as soon as she hit the shade, and that was buying a drink. Always sad to spend money on something not alcoholic. She was tired. It was becoming a problem. She'd been up rustling her contacts, and that meant even less sleep than usual. She missed Jager's smell as she passed him (was probably missing a lot, if we're being truthful) and wound up at a dingy stall that was selling some-or-other fruit juice. Alcohol not in reach? Sweet was the next best thing. *(( I still like Ayzema better. >: D))

Somewhere, deep down, Jingi had a soft spot for romance. She blushed at his words, trying to maintain the officious aura that she'd kept up for the past . . . several years. It was hard not to. That was how she'd kept herself separate from the often clumsy approaches of men who were, occasionally, too drunk to realize she was not on that side of the floor in Jaded. She glanced up, saw his eyes, quickly looked away. "I um. . .well, you know. . ." She was flustered. Twelve save her, she was worse than a thirteen year old girl the first time a boy paid attention to her. "Your music really was quite lovely! Have you ever performed in plays?" Her voice was bright, natural. Only an idiot wouldn't catch that topic switch, Jingi. You're sooooo smooth. She forced a small giggle. That probably wasn't a good idea either. She busied herself with the menu. "The seafood is always so fresh," she added, words coming too quickly for casual. She hoped the floor opened up and swallowed her.

CAN'T SMELL HOW STINKY HE IS LOOKING AT PICTURES! Dem abs. /unashamed (seriously though it's like one of those model shoots where they grease up the model and then try to make them look like a mechanic . . . you're going in the wrong direction, man) DAMMIT. Don't DISCOURAGE him! I want more eye candy pictures! *thwaps* *coughcoughcough* He looks very dirty and unappealing. I wouldn't ever want to get within ten feet of him.

She heard him behind her, she really did, but she just didn't put it together until he called out. She'd thought he was gone. She'd thought she'd been careful. Nope. Shit. She turned, tucking her thumbs into the ratty belt keeping her pants up, and put on a lopsided smile. "Forget some letters, hey?"

CAN'T SMELL HOW STINKY HE IS LOOKING AT PICTURES! Dem abs. /unashamed (seriously though it's like one of those model shoots where they grease up the model and then try to make them look like a mechanic . . . you're going in the wrong direction, man)

Newsflash: each and every person I listed is psychologically damaged. HARD. Damaging psychological is within reach for all of them. ;D EASY TIGER. I was thinking embarrassing the hell out of both parties involved to the point that they can never make eye contact again. (I had friends whose dads did the ol' gun angle. Not my dad. )

Oh come now, at least one of you needs to go for the damaging psychological angle!

Zhi didn't notice him. She was focused on the stairs she was taking upwards, reciting people she needed to see in her head, things she hoped to get done before her time ran out. She was normally more aware of her surroundings than that.

This thread sucks! Verad is quite the charming fellow! In his funny... eccentric... non-charming and non-heroic sort of way. Sweet! So we can trade! (full disclosure: Verad is absolutely awesome) DON'T WORRY VERAD, I GOT YOU. You like STDs, right?

"Best ale? Funny lad, ye are." Zhi wasn't a stalker, really. She just happened to make sure she knew where Flit was right after his shift ended. It wasn't creepy at all. She sat alongside him, eying Baderon but not yet ordering anything. "Sooo," she said, grin aimed square at him, "find any new lasses fer yer harem?"

I think it just depends on the people. The groups I've been fortunate enough to rp with tend towards sadism towards their characters. I have had bizarre conversations where both sides wanted their characters to lose. But, generally, I think it just depends on player mindset. To me, the only time freeform isn't worth it with people you trust is when the characters have similar abilities. I mean, shit, I'm always down for my character to lose. If Zhi gets into a bad situation where someone has the capability to kill her and she doesn't have an out -- she dies. RP is more fun for me when my character is legitimately at risk. (although too, I've also done combative rp with someone who is wayyyyyy better at writing combat -- he would help me with my posts so that I could accurately represent the character (which was just a npc, anyways, fighting against his pc in a bareknuckle boxing fighting ring) -- even if it meant his character got hurt) But not everyone enjoys that. So you just have to find players who match your mindset.

Does FFXIV have different rules? I would assume the etiquette is the same for any roleplay, be it Tabletop, Play by Post, Chatroom or on an MMO. Don't be a Godmodder, don't Meta game, don't insert yourself into another character's history without permission, be respectful of other people, don't confuse OOC and IC see. Stuff like that :3 Yup, same as any rp group I've ever played with. Welcome, welcome! There is indeed a lot of good stuff to find in these forums, so gg to Meta Xi for pointing you along! Hope you're able to find lots more great rp (be it events or not), and I hope you enjoy the community here.

(I had to, sorry) (carry on!)

Yessss.

So I mentioned how Yangh had the new haircut oocly to Jager (since he rarely pays attention to stuff like that). This happened: [18:48]Jager Si'kaie reached up and pulled the bundle of braids out and for once, let his hair down. Neck crack to the right- left, ahh. Who wore it better?

I'm always late! Or something. But mostly I just wanted to toss an update in here to reassure everyone that I haven't forgotten or anything. Here's how I'm going to focus time and energy towards helping get hotspots going (will add to first post here in a sec): The Drowning Wench (WINRAR) Short term: I will be sending pms out to FC leaders to see if they would be willing to have a tavern day once a week (or hell, once a month) just to get increased activity and visibility. In a perfect world where the ideal happens, it would be a rotating thing to help get regular rp happening. Short term: Likewise, I will be trying to do increased rp in the Wench, and encouraging other rpers in Limsa to make greater use of the Wench. Long term: I'm working with a few other people to get some regular once a month event type things going. Long term: Start sending semi-regular pms to those who have posted in the Limsa Character directory to help ensure people are aware of what is going on. But with an opt-out option. Because I really don't want to bother people who don't want to be bothered (and if you read this and are in the Limsa directory and don't want to receive pms for this sort of thing -- reply in this thread or send me a pm and I'll make sure you aren't included ). Long term: Once the rp in the Wench is a bit more visible and active, we'll work to use those connections to start moving forward on the Treasure Hunt rp thing as an opt-in rp to help deepen and broaden Limsa rp between people who rp there. The Missing Member (first loser) & Astalicia (second loser) Long long term: Once steady rp has been established in the Wench, start working on increased usage of the Member and Astalicia. Could be several months from now, but it's something to keep in mind. As ever, if you have ideas or suggestions please don't hesitate to lay them down. If you want to start something and want to see it in the Connections thread or want to do collaborations with other FCs, I am more than happy to help! Just send me a pm or post in the Limsa RP Connections thread, and we'll get to planning.

Zhi lifted her hand in farewell, surprised at the suddenness of his exit. But, then again, she was hungry too. Hungry and . . . given more time then she'd expected. She knew she'd need to study the letters in the book before the next day, but she also knew that time was running out and she had to make quick use of it. Who else did she have left to contact? It was still light out. Most of her contacts were daytrippers. She'd need to check in on Rurutani, eventually -- from what she'd heard, he'd come to town. But before that, she had to ensure things were properly set up. She pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes and stood up. She'd get some stuff done, and then she'd come back to study her letters, get a few hours of sleep, and be ready once Chocobo returned. She couldn't help a snort of laughter at the thought -- she enjoyed his company far more then she thought she would've. The laughter cut off. No. She had to watch for that. It was dangerous to find someone's company enjoyable when you were planning on betraying them. Mood cooled, she carefully poked her head out the window, looking for anyone who might tail her. Paranoia, at this juncture, was key. She didn't see anyone -- maybe good or bad -- so she perched on the edge of the sill and pulled herself back up to the roof. She was careful, keeping an eye and an ear out on her surroundings like she always did, as she climbed up and out of the reach. But she was also tired. Sometimes, tired people make mistakes. But one way or another, she'd get everything done and be back in the little room before Styrm returned the following day.

Short story things to help put a few more specifics into Zhi's backstory. I wanted to show how she got the kink in her tail, but there might be more after. There'll be a little bit of child abuse towards the end in another post or two. Fair warning. Mam never came home alone at night. Zhi wasn’t allowed to be home at night. She’d stay out, seeing how high she could climb and what she could steal from the nocturnal residents of the city. Sometimes she’d roam in packs with the children what passed for her friends, laughing and jeering at whatever unfortunates they came across. Sometimes the older kids would filch booze, and they’d sit around in abandoned buildings and lots passing the bottles around and talk about how great they were. Night belonged to Keepers. Zhavi understood, in an abstract sense, that she belonged to the Keeper clan. But what she knew, in a concrete sense, was that night belonged to her. Specifically. It was her freedom. It turned the city into her playground. That night, Zhi was alone. She’d a flexible wire and a tougher one she’d nicked from a smithy. They weren’t picks. Picks were things you didn’t often get to steal, because the older thieves had ‘em and it was rough to steal from one of them. Rough as in they caught you, and they didn’t bother calling for the jacks. They’d just sheathe their knife in you and call it even. That was the hierarchy in the city. Zhi was at the bottom. The door rattled. Zhi paused in her attempts, cursing its shit construction. It didn’t sit right on its hinges, and it was loose nohow. She listened for footsteps, heard none, and put the wires back to the lock. She couldn’t open good locks with her tools, but she could and had opened bad locks. But right now, even despite the fact that she was in the poorest residential area, this lock, in particular, was giving her a load more trouble then she’d had in a full moon. What was worse, the wire was getting all slippery in her fingers. She kept having to stick them in her mouth to wipe her hands against her pants. She was almost there when the door jerked under her fingers. She froze, tools still inserted into the locking mechanism, as something bumped behind the door. Eyes wide, she tried to pull the wires out from the lock, but her fingers had gone all slippery again. They were jerked from her grip. The door opened. Zhi stared up, and up until her eyes crested the broad chin of a roegadyn. A roegadyn with axe in hand. He looked down. Their eyes met. For a strange, long moment Zhi felt a curious sense of detachment as she struggled to place the face; she’d seen it somewhere before. He moved, hefting the axe, and Zhi’s eyes moved to the weapon automatically, drawn to the movement. The axe was more familiar. Particularly because it was a jack weapon. The moment ended. Zhi cursed, a stream of unintelligible words flowing from her, as she backpedaled, turning to run. His hand shot out and caught the back of her shirt. Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head as she was drawn back, and then lifted. She spun in mid air, struggling and kicking, and came face to face with the man. He was big. The axe had gone from his other hand, and he caught her flailing hands with it, stilling her struggles. “Kid,” he growled, “think I tole ye and yer friends t’stay out o’trouble.” Oh yeah. That jack. She did remember him. Him and his partner patrolled their part of the city, and he usually pulled night shifts. Except for tonight. Apparently. And when, exactly, had this jack come to live in this neighborhood? How had she not known about it? The questions shot around her head, all bouncy desperation. She tried to think around them, and as she opened her mouth to inhale for a retort, she caught a whiff of something. Zhavi Gutterborn was the daughter of a whore. She knew what sex smelled like. A slow grin curved her lips, and he shook her in retaliation for her apparent irreverence. It rattled her, but she wasn’t down for long. Oh no. “Ruttin’ on duty, mister?” She thought herself right clever for the retort, as was shown with the return of her grin. He stared at her, eyes going all flat and hard. It was a sign of victory, she thought, and readied another salvo. Her voice was smugness personified. “Don’tcha know where th’ real whores are, mister? Lasses in this part o’ town ain’t nothin’ but. . .” She trailed off, eyes going wide again. He’d removed the hand keeping her still. He’d picked up his axe. Its edge was pointed towards her, and she stared at it. Even in the dark of night, there was light enough to glimmer off the metal of the blade. Of the edge. It looked right sharp. Real sharp. “D’ye know what the punishment used t’be fer ratty little thieves, lass?” The grin vanished. “U-uhhh. . .” “See, the way t’keep ratty little thieves from stealin’ is t’take away what they use t’steal with. Guess what that is?” Definite bad feeling. “Umm. . .me picks?” “Hmm.” He had a grin on his face. It was a nasty, ugly grin. “I think I might take me a hand. No one has t’know but us two, right?” Zhi went cold. He’d do it. She knew he would. She’d seen the damage the axes of the jacks could do to a man, woman. . .child. Zhi weren’t no stranger to bloodshed. No one could be, not on the streets. Dead bodies happened, and you learned to walk around them, not look at them. Same with anything else. Shouting, screaming. . .cries for help. She was on her own. She spat. Spitting contests was something she was good at, and her aim was true. It got into his eyes. Now, the jacks? They weren’t some bumbling idiots. He didn’t drop her. He didn’t drop his axe to start rubbing at his eyes. He didn’t jerk away. But it did distract him, and that was all the moment she needed to slip out of her shirt and hit the ground. Zhi always wore layers. They’d never saved her from getting cut up before, but she’d remember for next time — mam screaming at her for losing a shirt aside. She looked up as the world seemed to stop, muscles tensing to run, and saw that he was already letting go of her shirt, already starting to wipe at his eyes. He was quick for a roegadyn. Naw, more’n that, he was quick for anyone. He was just too damn fast. He bellowed. “Shit!” Zhi ran. In a just world, she would have outpaced him. She should have been more nimble than he was. But the world wasn’t just, and wasn’t fair — he was a guard in his prime, a jack who made his living chasing down petty criminals and meting out justice whichever way he saw fit. Suffice to say, even with axe held to the side (she hoped he tripped and rutting cut himself up on it) and more mass than any one person should even have, he kept on her tail. She took sharp turns. He stayed on her. She jumped down onto lower streets. He crashed down behind her, unphased. She swung off bridge to bridge. He was always behind her. Gaining. It wasn’t right. It was downright unnatural — or something. She had to think fast to rid herself of him, go somewhere he wouldn’t be able to follow. Do something he wouldn’t expect. She pivoted onto yet another bridge, breath coming in great gasps and arms pumping, and made another jump. But rather than landing on the path below, as she had done the last few times, she landed on the wall. Skin tore as her fingers and toes scrabbled for purchase, and she watched as he sailed past her to land on the road below. He looked up, murder in his eyes, and he put his axe away. He set his hands to the rock. He started to climb. It really wasn’t rutting fair. Really. Zhi cursed Nald’thal for all the weight that had gone into the roe’s side of the scales, and set herself to climbing. The pain hadn’t fully set in, burned away by her fear and exhilaration, but she could feel the start of cramping exhaustion in her fingers. She had to dust him somehow. She crested another tier, stumbled forward a few steps, and had an idea. She moved to the rough outcropping of rock behind the buildings on this newest tier and started to climb again — just as the roe crested the road. Zhi redoubled her efforts, and was a body’s length ahead of him when he set his hands to the wall. When it came to climbing, Zhi was good. There, she had an edge on him. She pulled away, and when she looked back down he was a far enough distance away. She looked, waiting until he had one hand up, reaching for the next handhold. He was directly below her. It was perfect. She let go of the wall, landing one foot on his head, the other slipping off his shoulder and skidding down his front. She wasn’t a heavy kid, but she was heavy enough. She’d caught him by surprise, and he lost his grip on the wall. They fell. Bad landings happened from time to time, even for her. But hers wasn’t near as bad as his. He landed flat on his back, and she half on and half off of him, rolling away with the force of it. They hadn’t been all that high up, but it was enough to knock every last breath of air from his lungs. There was a whistling, wheezing sound as he instinctively tried to refill them. The sound of it made her smile, even as she tried to shake the dizziness caused by her own rough landing. But him? He wouldn’t be able to follow for a little while. Long enough. Zhi went to him, patting him down. She found gil, and took a handful. Might as well, right? She’d have to avoid his part of town for awhile, anyways, because the next time he saw her? He was very probably gonna kill her. So she took what she could and trotted away to waste more time until dawn. Until she could go home. * Mam always woke up in the morning alone. Alone except for Zhi. When Zhi came home, she’d always walk to the one bed in their little room, to the shoddy table where money was always left. Zhi would count that money. Counting, the one thing her mam had taught her, because that was Zhi’s job: to keep track of how much money they had. Counting, her mam had told her many times, was useful. You could get through just about anything so long as you knew how to keep numbers in your head. Zhi would take the money, count it, and then go to the small stash they kept under the floorboards. Zhi was lucky. Her mam hadn’t given herself over to drugs, over to addictions. She was smart enough to hoard what little money they had, and when she was in a good mood she’d pull Zhi onto her lap and poke through the gil together, whispering stories of places they would go when she’d earned enough. But she was never in a good mood for very long. Mam never quite earned enough. Zhi never understood why money would disappear, why it had to go towards something she didn’t understand, to a man she’d never met. Her mam was smart, but when it really counted, she wasn’t smart enough. Zhi jingled her own earned coin in her hand as she crept inside, locking the door behind and setting the wedge; that door’s lock was the first she’d ever practiced on, and she knew just how easy to pick it was. The wedge helped. It was a short trip to the table. Their little room was small, as were most like them who made a living on the edge of poverty, flirting with being out on the streets. But Zhi didn’t need more than a room. She had her, and her mom, and they kept each other warm. They had food. It was enough. Zhi was breathing in the smells of her mam’s night out as she took the seven steps from door to table (it took her mam four; five when she was tired). It was a game to figure out how many men had been in the room during the night. It was as automatic to her as counting the money, counting steps, counting anything was. She froze with her hand outstretched towards the table, turning to look towards the bed. She smelled a man. A familiar man, one she’d smelled on her mam before. One that, she knew instinctively, hit her mam. One who her mam would visit in the daytime. One that never gave her mam any money, but took it — there was always less in their stash when mam went out to visit him. Mam wasn’t sleeping alone. The room was suddenly too small, too precious. Zhi’d never seen this man before, the one who took their money. Though, truth, she rarely saw any of the men her mam dallied with. Rage rose up in her. This wasn’t his place. He didn’t belong there. None of them belonged there in the day, in her spot next to her mam. She left the gil on the table, and turned towards the bed. He was too big. There wasn’t room on it for her. He was in her spot, and that filled her with a wrath so deep and so vicious that she didn’t know what to do with it. So she just stared, gulping shallow breaths, hands fisted. She wasn’t going to leave. She wasn’t going to let him take her place. She ripped one of their ratty blankets away, intent on setting herself a vigil against the wall. The man turned. His eyes flickered open. Zhi froze. He was a hyur, tall, muscles wiry on the arm flopped above his head. She opened her mouth to tell him to leave, that he wasn’t allowed to stay, when he chuckled. It was a deep sound, masculine. It didn’t belong in the room. Her eyes flickered away, towards her mam. She didn’t stir. Her ears were soft in sleep, eyes closed, breathing steady. There was a dark spot on her upper cheekbone, one that hadn’t been there when Zhi’d left earlier. Her courage broke. She took a step back, hands fisting into the bottom of her shirt — still clutching the blanket. The man was staring at her, sleepy: there was a slow, relaxed smile on his face as he took the sight of her in. She stared at him, eyes moving from his hand to her mam’s face. She turned to look at the door, her shirt twisting in her grip. Heat prickled behind her eyes as she looked back at him. He looked from her to the corner behind her, furthest from the bed. She took another step back, shoulders hunching up and her breath coming faster. Nald’thal had taken everything from her side of the scales. She was craven. He smiled at her as she took the eight steps to the corner. “Good lass,” he murmured. She heard the rustling sound of him turning over as she pulled the blanket around her and sat with her back in the corner. It wasn’t fair. That was her spot. Her throat was closing up. He shouldn’t be there. Why was he there? Had her mam told him he could stay? Why hadn’t she told Zhi? Her breath hitched. She pressed her lips together, trying to swallow, trying to stay silent. She curled double, face to knees. Just for today, she told herself. Mam will explain it when she wakes up. He’ll be gone. He won’t come back. Just for today. She hated him. She hated him worse than when her mam hit her in the mouth for backtalking. Worse than when her mam told her no, told her to shut up, told her to get out. She hated him worse than the jacks, worse than rival kids who threw rocks at her. Worse than the old nag in the market who always caught her up by the ear when she tried to run past, and twisted it until Zhi was sure it was gonna come off. She hated him more than anyone she’d ever hated before. She was sure that she would hate him forever, that he would always be the person she hated most in the world. She would, she decided, forgive her mam. Once he was gone, she would tell her mam it was okay. She was grown up at nine, and she understood. Her mam would tell her that it was just this one time. There would be a reason. They would laugh and count the gil. Her mam would buy her something sweet. She would never see him again. She would tell her mam to stop going to see him, and then they would save up more gil, and they could leave their little room, the one that leaked and was cold in winter. Everything would be okay. Nothing was going to change. But when she woke up, he was still there.

I'm kinda with Warren -- I put Zhi at 19, but she doesn't know how old she is. I kinda get around hard numbers otherwise by having her grow emotionally (slowly) as rp progresses. After that, after a long enough time passes, she will eventually start to show signs of what happens when you're no longer in your early twenties and treating your body like shit. And when that happens, I'll probably change her wiki to read something like 'appears to be in her early 20s' or whatever . . .which will eventually be misleading because her physical appearance will age much faster than actual age. Unless someone gets her to clean up her act. Heh. I don't like to do specifics in MMOs because you're beholden to the Powers That Be and their decisions about what the current in-game year is.

Sure, I'll bite! I play Zhavi Streetrunner. She's a total streetrat, daughter of a whore and an unknown man. She was born in Limsa Lominsa, and there she's stayed. She hasn't ever tried for a better life -- what she has is what she thinks is all that's open to her. Crime and risk. She's not a very nice person. She's what the streets have made of her. IRL, I'm a character junkie. I tend to go for things I haven't written about before. Things that catch my interest. Things that I see around me and want to recreate better than reality. I've played a 50-year-old sweet grandmother who lost everything, I've played 40-something has beens, I've played teenage losers, thirty-something professionals (including a bureaucratic clerk trying to do his best in a corrupt system) and hunters, hundred year old inhuman monsters, twenty-something nobles -- the compliment someone gave me that I have relished was how different all of my characters were from each other. The second compliment that made me happy was how one of the people I used to rp with always thought of me, the ooc person, as being a 50-something year old grandmother. That told me I'd pulled it off, at least to some extent. For for Zhavi, the main reason I wanted to make her was because the last streetrat I made was a fairly incompetent coward (which, while fun in its own way, didn't quite settle the itch). I'm drawn to city rp because I all but live in a forest next to a very small city that is probably very possible to be compared to a small town. The largest city I've ever been in is probably Seattle . . . so cities fascinate me. How people interact in and make a living in cities fascinates me. I wanted someone who lived in that world, and couldn't escape it. I wanted someone to who that world is the world to her. Someone who can't see the forest for the trees, that sort of thing. As well, playing someone so amoral is fun because it is so different from who I am (the choice word people tend to apply to me is 'sweet', with 'nice' being second place). I like playing the antagonist, the bad guy, the guy on the other side of the river who you don't understand and don't want to. I want her to be someone who lives and breathes in a space that is almost completely alien to me. I want to make it believable. At the end of the day, that's why I rp and go for disparate characters -- to create worlds, outside of my experiences, with other people, and watch how all those created characters interact with each other.

Hey there, welcome to the RPC! First off, take a nice deep breath. It can be a smidge overwhelming while you're adjusting to everything, so don't hesitate to take your time looking at things! Even if you just check out a few LS/FCs per day, you'll get a better idea of established, public groups that both servers provide. Making Connections and RP Discussion are both forums you could likely get good use out of. And if you want to see some rp, there is the Town Square, which is forum rp and what I started out with before making the transition into game. Which is why I can assure you that in game is just a little faster and a little shorter (sometimes a lot shorter) than the full prose variety of rp. I still post in paragraphs in game when I need to -- the main difference is you don't have to specify setting or character positioning (the latter not so much until you do something that can't be represented by in game actions). But the rest is all there! There is a limit to number of characters per post in game, but I get around that by typing up everything in notepad (yes, yes, we can all extol the awfulness of notepad) and then splitting it up into multiple posts as I hit the character limit. It's worked very well for me. This crowd is very friendly, especially to newcomers. If you have any specific questions, feel free to ask them. One thing I have done in the past is to look at characters in the wiki and then pm their players here or in game to arrange for little rp outings. As well, on the Balmung server (there is rp in Gilgamesh too, but as I have never rped on there I cannot offer specifics) there are many people who are open to walkup rp. The big hotspot for rp is the Quicksand in Ul'dah. We're working towards beefing up rp in Limsa Lominsa's Drowning Wench (so please don't hesitate to come walk around Limsa! ), and I am not sure where the rp is located in Gridania, but I know it is there. As well, I've seen people rping in a host of other locations as I went about leveling, but that's a lot more random and changes depending on where the rp takes people. If you want someone to meet up with and do some pickup rp in game, I'd be more than happy to, as I'm sure there are plenty of other people who will eventually chime in with invitations. Don't worry, man. We've got your back.

You know, I used to hate that stupid hooded robe thing, but Xydane and Coat both rock it pretty hard. EVERYBODY STARE AT THE MIQO'TE WITH THE PRETTY ASS! Best line: [18:30]Ilithyia Aureus: I suppose we could all retire to the Bismark? I believe the more civilized people attend that location. >: D (good job, guys) I learned that you cannot sit anywhere near a table without being put into one of the chairs. But oh well, we can all pretend! (also Zhi finally got to get D'lyhhia drunk) (You can't tell, but she's drinking, really!) (>: D)

Back atcha, Berrod (and Krell). First meetings are always so much fun -- especially when Zhi tries to hook up the two guys she just met for the first time with each other. I was sure one or both was going to get angry, but they both just weathered it and kept trying to play it off. You both have great characters who have been a pleasure to read the antics of (either in passing conversations or in forum rp). Kudos for being interesting! SPEAKING OF FIRST MEETINGS. Seeiiikoooo. She endured an hour or two of Zhi trying to convince her that she's the best lover on the planet, on and off. Or at least better than Jager (I actually don't know how long that part of the rp lasted, but the whole thing did last for awhile). And I don't know if he will show up to the RPC, but a special shoutout/kudos must be given to Thomas Thibedeau and his two companions, Ilithyia and Riza. Two ladies have never been so offended over their male companion being told his ass is pretty, and then being invited to cards. They were good sports, and I was cackling like a crone over their reaction. Their indignation was perfect, as was the line that they should go to the Bismarck because more civilized people attend that location. It absolutely made my night. It was something like confirmation that I was playing Zhi just right if I could illicit that sort of response. <3s for all three of them. D'lyhhia and Jager for putting up with it, since I went from waiting for everyone to post like a responsible person to posting every time someone reacted to Zhi. Also there may have been drunkenness involved. You two had me giggling more. It was wonderful. Thanks for being wonderful. And D'lyhhia is one of those characters who so acts like a teenager at times that I can't help but snicker at the interaction between her and Zhi . .. some days, I think they deserve each other, weird mentorship and all. And Xydane, for randomly having me along for romps and adventures, and giving Zhi a shiny new toy. I can say I honestly did not see that deal coming, and that made it all the more fun. Pretty much I haven't laughed that much during rp for a very long time. So kudos to you all for helping me along with it, and for enduring the results of my terrible sense of humor.

Ah, MUSHes. I remember (not exactly fondly ) being a wizard on a WoD MUSH and adjudicating multi-hour and sometimes multi-day timestops That sort of thing is exactly why we stuck to freeform combat on AmberMUSH. The philosophy was "we're writing collaborative fiction, so if we can't agree on an outcome, write something else". Huh. The MUD I used to play on had a sort of half and half solution for those sorts of things. They were called duels, and if anything big was on the table, they'd follow a fairly standard format. Each person would have three posts each. The starter, then the next person would essentially defend and attack, back, forth, back, and the ending post. There would be three judges. Those judges would vote. The one that got the most votes would win. It had an interesting effect on combative rp -- namely, the person who won the most naturally became feared icly. Only others who had similar win rates would act tough around them. Adversely, unless you entered in to the whole duel-thing, your character couldn't really rp as being a fighter of any kind without essentially being laughed at. Either you dueled, or you weren't taken seriously if you played a combative character. It was never really my thing, but one benefit of the system was that people played fair or they didn't get votes. Some judges would be less likely to vote for you if, during the duel, you didn't allow your character to take the damage from the other guy's attacks. Some people even went so far as to go for DD - death duels. IE, whoever wins, lives. Whoever loses, dies. Which is fine, and all, but because of the ooc factor of it, even if your character is there watching any interference is sorta. . .frowned upon. I once had to have my character essentially sitting on her hands and watch her leader die because I was afraid of ooc repercussions for a very ic action (and, well, me being me, it's not like I would have been adverse to my character getting smote for interfering, but the culture of that particular game was err, not very open to such things and that particular fight was a Big Deal -- so I didn't do anything at all). Hell, wars between nations would have battles determined by the dueling system, though not terribly frequently. It was definitely a very pervasive system. Nothing will ever be perfect, but it's a system that definitely has its pros to go along with its cons. As for me, I prefer the figure-things-out ahead of time approach with people I'm unfamiliar with. If I've been rping with you extensively for over a year? Ehhh, let the rp happen as it will. Auto-hits and all.

"Aww, Jager! Ain't nice t'talk 'bout a lady's hole when she ain't 'round t'hear it. Thought ye'd better manners'n that. Can't take ye anywhere nice, now can I?" The first die she blocked. The second, well, having one eye swollen shut really messed with her depth perception. It made her wince. "Don't care where ye feck off to'r when -- but ye could at least get me somethin' t'eat. I'm ruttin' hungry, ye blaggart. Oh aye, booze is nice -- an' I see ye takin' it like a coldhearted wretch, I do -- but it ain't gonna fill a lass' stomach. No it ain't. So how 'bout ye run yerself down t' a stall like a good little house boy an' fetch me somethin', fancy?" She was staring at him. Her expression wasn't a particularly nice one.